Beliefs
by yllimilly
Summary: It's hard to make sense of who you are when you're one reincarnation of an ancient battle spirit and there are no convenient supernatural artifacts nearby to ascertain the existence of the transcendental around you. Dark Magician Girl x Spiria, for contest.


It's sort of ironic that A Hard Day's Night (well, to be fair, it's a dubstep remix) be playing in the background of this uber hipster excuse for a bar in a Manhattan basement because that's exactly what Jimena Perez needs right now, a wife or a loved one or even just a pet to come home to after a hard day's work.

But this is 2012 and we're past this failure of a sexual revolution; men haven't quite caught on to this idea of staying at home and women still have to go by those hampering 'rules' of proper behaviour or whatnot if they want to get ahead. Her feet hurt and the bar is crowded. She slides a finger between her heel and the incisive edge of her cheap heels to soothe the nasty blister that showed up today. She isn't a regular of the place and this isn't exactly her crowd, so she doesn't want to risk getting her shoes stolen even for the pure bliss that would be letting her overheating feet breathe a bit. She feels tired all over and stiff in her working clothes - undoing one or two buttons from her blouse isn't doing any good, it's not even attracting gazes.

This is a boring bar, but then again she might simply be projecting her negative energy all around. An elbow finds their way into her back ribs and she winces, not even bothering to turn around and take the muttered apology. She places a brand of her hair behind her ear and resumes her staring contest with her drink. She's thirsty but she knows what happens when she dunks down her alcohol - private guided tours to strangers' flats, getting back home via parts of town she'd never seen before.

_Well I guess it's time for me to finish you and leave_, she thinks. The fruity cocktail agrees. Still she can't help but look around one more time, just in case she'd make eye contact with someone interesting, and to her surprise, she does.

It's a girl. Young woman. Tanned, straight black hair. Athletic build. Any other detail is of minor importance. This stranger takes care of her body, which has to be a good thing. Somehow, Jimena feels like this can be a trustworthy person.

This stranger is narrowing her eyes, risking an amused smile. Have they met before?

Our heroine's legs are aching to stretch and her body slides off the stool. The stranger woman has started elbowing the crowd, slaloming between the city's aesthetic elites to be reunited with her find.

"I have the feeling we've met before," Tan Athlete says. Droplets of sweat are building up in the nook above her collar bones.

"I was gonna ask you the same."

They look at each other for a moment, both thinking something along the lines of _you're so striking I wouldn't have forgotten you that easily_. The tan girl tries to find a purpose for her hands and finally slides them into the front pockets of her cargo pants. "I'm Samira." She shrugs, her neck muscles rolling deliciously underneath her loose sleeveless top.

"Jimena."

They study each other's features for a sign of recognition, to spy the very moment memory will strike up and shine '_oh! I know where I met you_'.

But nope. Maybe she'll remember later. For now she's just going to have to settle for mild rudeness. (She thinks forgetting about people is rude).

But inside her head Jimena thinks that maybe they haven't really met before, but that they do have a connection that goes beyond the material, but she knows better than to scare the cool new girl with what her ex called 'superstitions'.

Awkwardness is circling above their heads like a bird of prey. Jimena reaches for the forgotten drink on the counter behind her, brings it to her lips.

"Nuh-uh," the other girls says, deftly grabbing the glass from her before. Their fingers touch.

Their fingers touch for a _split second_ and maybe it's the softness, warmth and strange dryness of the girl's skin but Jimena can't help but think of vast empty spaces of sand and of almighty, soul crushing sunlight. _Don't be ridiculous, just because she looks Middle-Eastern doesn't mean- _

"I'm a paramedic, so I've seen my share of date rape shit and all that, people mixing roofies with all kinds of shit to get high. And you're kind of pretty, so..." Samira's gaze drifts to the generous cleavage then brusquely away because she knows she got caught red-handed.

Yet that vision was weird though. Jimena woke up reeling from a strange dream in a sunburnt desert.

"Wanna go outside? Somewhere quieter."

"Sure."

.

**Gotta go to work  
Thanks for everything you're a sweetie  
Call me  
917-...**

.

That was a strange night. First experience with a female. First out of body experience.

She didn't tell Samira about it at first but when they touched the visions became so strong she felt like - no, she literally left her body and floated above them both.

Saw both of them from above, making love.

Well perhaps love is a strong word, but there was definitely something there... Something that couldn't be reduced to 'having sex'.

The phone vibrates, clattering on the wooden table. Caller unknown.

_It's her. It has to be her_. "Hello?"

"Uh, Jimena?"

"Yeah, it's me." If this were a landline she'd be twirling the cord around her fingers. Right now she settles for grinning like crazy. "Hey."

"Did I wake you up?"

"No, but I was on my way out, though."

"To work? What kind of cabinet needs a receptionist on the weekend, that's just barbaric."

"I was going to the Y actually. I don't know if you..."

"That's funny, I was gonna ask you if you wanted to go out or something. But I guess I can do gym."

Samira's voice sounds coarse and warm like sand at the other end of the line. This new thing is going way too smoothly. And for once Jimena tells herself it doesn't have to be 'too good to be true'.

They agree to go to a YMCA near her flat. And when they actually meet up they head out for ice cream instead.

"Mind if I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"That... That wasn't your _first_ time, was it. With women I mean."

"Well... Yeah. I guess it showed, didn't it."

"No! No..." Samira makes time to look properly flabbergasted. "It's just - you sort of looked like you knew what you were doing is all. Not that I think you're slutty or anything, I-" Some kind of blush creeped up on her cheeks. "I've sampled quite a bit of the queer buffet in town if you know what I mean and no one puts quite as much energy into it as you did. That was pretty good actually."

Oh dear. That was why she'd insisted on using the dam. "I always do my best in everything I do," Jimena answers. "I gotta give it my all, so that even though I fail, at least I tried."

The pink thing of Samira's cheeks deepens. "You definitely didn't fail."

They look at the food caravans and decide to go for tacos, which makes them giggle like teenagers. Then they go for the actual ice cream and eat in silence. Samira looks like a one track kind of person so when she eats ice cream, she eats ice cream, and Jimena stares at her and then at the sunny blue sky above them both.

.

They feel comfortable around each other.

And they're both stuck with an abnormally huge slice of free time in their lives because some exes left gaping holes in their schedules.

.

They make plans to... hang out again. Just because. With a guy there would be sexual tension but Samira feels more like - well she's also a girl. So she feels more like a friend-friend than a friend _with benefits_.

It's nine or maybe ten PM and they're almost snuggling on a couch, watching a queer romantic comedy which they don't actually listen to - it makes a pleasant show of moving images in the background but they find each other far more interesting.

Samira starts feeling sort of touchy feely. And she has this sort of blush on her cheeks. And Jimena doesn't really feel like being all touchy feely tonight - truth is, she's afraid of touching Samira, because when she does she's flooded with what her brain tells her are memories because they're not just images anymore they are slowly turning into _scenes_. Everything is so coherent and vivid it's like she gets cut off from reality and dives into that other universe that beckons her like she belonged in it and secretly Jimena knows that she and Samira aren't into each other's presence for the same reasons.

"You spaced out."

"Oh."

Jimena looks at her hand, marveling at the secret powers hidden in her sense of touch.

"I guess I was just saying - " _wait, Samira had been talking?_ " -... conclusions, I know we just met and I know it's weird and maybe we shouldn't take what I'm gonna say too seriously, but I think I kind of like you." Samira is twisting her hands like it would make the vulnerability go away.

"You're nice." It's a lot to process. Mostly it's a lot to fend off - she should know what guys really mean when they say 'I like you' so early in the process of getting acquainted - and it's never a good sign. But Samira isn't a guy, she's a girl, so maybe girls are different in that regard, and even then she isn't actually 'just a girl' - she's the girl who makes her see visions.

Samira looks down at her mistreated hands, swallowing. "I know you probably get that a lot, but I don't usually... attach myself to people that quickly."

"I do get that a lot, but I believe you. Thanks for opening up to me."

The shy grin turns sour. "Sure. I... I wasn't expecting you to reciprocate I just wanted to... I just wanted to say it I guess. I don't really understand it myself. I'm usually a pretty down to earth person but I guess these 'love at first sight' things really can happen."

Then nothing.

"That was too fast I guess. I can come on too strong, I know. It's like I said I don't really understand-"

"No! No it's just that..."

"You're not sure you're into women," she adds in a murmur.

Jimena looks at her hand again, then at Samira's. She is keenly aware that anything comforting she could think of saying right now is more likely to sound hurtful than anything else.

"I'm not- I'm not saying I want us to date or anything but I'm saying look, if you were just experimenting that's okay, I did for other girls too, but like, I'm just saying, if you wanna keep experimenting, I'll be there."

They look at the movie credits intently. Then at each other.

"Do you feel like we have a connection?" Jimena asks prudently.

"What do you mean?"

"Like... A special bond. That was there to start with."

"Er... I don't know... Like when I saw you... I don't know, I felt comfortable right away, like, oh, she looks friendly or something. But then like we started talking and it just clicked, right?" She snaps her fingers to punctuate her speech. "So I guess if that's what you mean by connection, then yeah."

Jimena frowns to herself as if it would facilitate the organizing of her thoughts. "I mean something more like... Do you believe in fate?"

"Fate?"

"Yeah, like, we were meant to meet at that bar, at that time."

"I... I'm not sure. Never really believed in fate. I like to think of it in terms of, er, a happy coincidence or something. I've seen so much crap in my line of work, homicides and just random, freak accidents and everything... I don't believe in fate. I don't even believe in God anymore."

"Oh."

"I don't know, did that offend you? Are you a kind of religious person?"

"Oh..."

"Sorry, I shouldn't have asked."

"No, it's just..." Jimena extended her arm. "Can I try something again?"

"Uh, sure?"

"You just have to give me your hand. And close your eyes. And-"

"And...?"

"Tell me what you see."

"Huh, okay."

It wasn't as strong as she'd expected. The vision.

If anything, it was hazy. Jimena squeezes Samira's hand in hers as if it would strengthen their 'link'.

She sees an oasis.

A horde of harnessed camels, waiting quietly for something to happen. Kind of like Jimena - she's been waiting forever for 'something', anything, something meaningful to happen to her and give direction to her life.

There are no humans around in the vision.

And it feels like Jimena is watching the whole scene - a desolate one, but still - from above.

_From above._

As if she were hovering in the air.

She knits her brows, tries to focus on the scene but it stays the same -

_visually _-

she feels a deep, no, strong sort of... energy wave coming from her right side and -

"I don't... really _see_ anything," comes Samira's cautious voice.

Jimena opens her eyes at Samira's comment, and the 'wave of energy' vanishes.

"You don't?"

There is a pause.

"Well, not really. What was I supposed to see?"

"I don't know, just -" She bites her lower lip, hesitated, then sighed. "I don't know."

Samira withdraws her hand. "Like, did _you_ see something?"

"Hm..." Something my mind probably gleaned from a National Geographic? But more intense? This belonged in the category of 'things to keep to oneself'. "No, nothing I guess."

"Are you sure?"

She takes a deep breath. Was it worth risking...?

"Well, I did. It's as if though - I don't know how to explain. It's as if though I'm seeing memories."

Samira simply looks at her.

"Memories like," Jimena feels flustered from the silent pressure to explain herself, "like I'm remembering something that goes way back. When I touch your hand."

"Memories like... Good or bad things? You sound so solemn about it, I can't be sure."

"I... I don't know. Neither I guess. Important. Like, _really_ important, like I'm _needed_. I should be there right now."

"... I don't follow."

"It's like-" It felt like it suddenly all made sense inside Jimena's head at that very moment- "It's like I had two selves. One here, now. And one there, back then." She sounds like she's making things up, but really it's rather that things, truths, explanations are rushing to her mind at this very moment, falling into place, making sense for the first time. Like she sees light at the end of the tunnel.

"You mean... You get that just from... Like, from touching my hand?"

Jimena bites her lip. "It sounds silly, doesn't it."

"No! No... Erm, no, I mean, who am I to judge your intuitions, right?"

"They're not intuitions."

Silence coats the room.

"Um, okay."

"You said it yourself. You said you felt comfortable with me."

"Yeah, but... I'm sorry, I think you lost me here. I felt like we'd clicked but I'm not sure what you mean by... By this," she said, opening her touched hand.

"When we met in the bar, and when you grabbed my drink from me. Our fingers touched. I saw the same thing that I just saw back then."

"And that was...?"

"Sand, sand and sun. The desert."

"I wasn't _born_ in Egypt," Samira started with a hint of impatience in her voice, "my parents moved here before I was born-"

"I know - but that's not what I meant! It's not because you're Egyptian - I mean - back at the bar I didn't even _know_ you were Egyptian."

"Well I _am_ brown."

Jimena bites her lip harder - "That's not what I meant either-"

"You're _latina_! Of all things! Don't you..." Samira sighs. "I don't wanna be the 'Middle-Eastern' little box that you can check off your ethnic list."

"That is -" Jimena's voice begins to crack already - "so not what I meant! We have a spiritual connection. I refuse to believe you haven't felt any."

Samira looks surprised.

"Look, I'm not saying you're crazy or anything, but I just don't believe in that stuff..."

"I don't - I _don't_ think it's a coincidence that I'm seeing those things when our hands touch. And you said you felt that odd connection when you met me, too."

Samira smiles uncomfortably.

.

Samira doesn't call for a week. And for a week, her thoughts are full of the strange girl with a strange vibe. Like part of her wants to believe her crazy nonsense about a fateful connection, but the other half knows there's too many weirdos in her exes list (including one stalker and one vengeful married woman - go figure).

Then, on the eighth wistful day of 'I shouldn't have been so impulsive I shouldn't have erased her number now I have no way to contact her', Samira goes to a bar.

Not the bar - where she'd met Jimena in. To a new bar. Any other bar.

.

They don't quite forget about one another, and one night Samira dreams of empty deserts, too.

She attributes it to Jimena's nonsense. She had sounded pretty convincing that night, when she talked about fate and connections. She would do well in sales. Why was she wasting her life being a secretary to douchebag lawyers?

Why did Samira care?

.

They meet again a month later by chance.

By accident.

Or more precisely, _on the premises of_ an accident.

Jimena was the one to dial 911.

And Samira was on duty that day.

She finds it hard to focus on the victim, when Jimena stands there idly waiting for things to be 'over' so that she can have a word with her. Samira tells herself she should give her a second chance - after all it's not like she's been harassing her or stalking her.

"Let's go," her driver said. Matt. Tall guy. Serious. Generous. Long hair. Fairly attractive for a male specimen. Who is himself interested by other male specimens if possible.

Samira glances at him, then at Jimena, looking distraught by the suddenness of the accident, and by the unexpected encounter. She knows they need to go and fast but somehow Jimena manages to hijack the interaction and gets Matt to thank her for calling the ambulance.

They shake hands and something happens on Jimena's face.

Samira knows that she's having one of those visions - even if she doesn't believe in the visions because they aren't real, but still she just KNOWS that's what's going through Jimena's head at the moment.

Matt lets go, visibly shocked by what happened because he asks Samira if she can drive.

She can.

And Jimena tell her she'll be at the gym tomorrow. Can Samira come?

Yes, she can.

.

Matt invites himself to Samira's place after work.

Doesn't he have Mr New Potential Date to meet at the coffee shop as usual?

Guy Who Isn't That Special can wait.

Matt can't stop asking about Jimena.

Samira says everything she knows in a more or less objective manner. And ten minutes after the point their conversation officially started to revolve exclusively around Jimena, Matt invites himself to the gym.

She can't say no to that.

She can't ask why it matters so much that he see Jimena again, though, because she has an odd feeling that she does know.

.

Jimena acts polite at the gym, keeping a respectful, comfortable distance on physical and verbal grounds. Samira watches her and Matt circle each other like curious dogs, or cats, or vultures.

She takes longer than usual to shower and emerges from the changing room only to see Matt and Jimena chatting animatedly in the lobby. Either they do have a lot of things in common, or they're both feeling very talkative, or they're doing their best to sound like they have everything in common.

Numbers are exchanged, and it takes too many seconds for Jimena to ask Samira's number, too.

.

That night she falls asleep on the chick lit thing she's been trying to finish for weeks and has a strange dream about empty deserts and camels. There is an oasis, and from her invisible vantage point high in the sky she sees the minuscule silhouettes of royalty and servants walking desperately slowing to the north, arranged in a thin line, their processing leaving evanescent foot traces behind them...

.

The cell phone rang - she'd stupidly let it on in hopes that she would be called by Jimena and maybe they could start over this little thread of not sure what exactly they had started spinning together a month ago. But instead of the slightly bubbly chirping Samira had gotten used to expect, her grandmother's raspy voice resonated from the tiny device.

She had something to say about a sister (one of Samira's great-aunts) having just passed away. Samira checked her alarm clock - the hour was ungodly in this time zone but it was early morning in Cairo - and tried to sound as comforting as she could to console her grandmother. The call didn't last long; baba had a long list of relatives to call.

Samira couldn't fall back asleep.

So life was short - even a distant relative she'd never met could make her understand that.

She looked at the cell phone, wondering whether she should call Jimena.

A staring contest would not help.

But magically it made the phone ring, and Samira hastily answered, happy that her grandmother had forgotten to tell her or ask her something - it would take her mind off her 'lesbian dilemma'.

Jimena's voice echoed.

"Samira?"

"Yes?"

She was out of breath.

"Samira you have to come. We're at Matt's place, he says you know how to get there."

She froze - Matt's place?

"What exactly is going on? Are you alright?"

"Yes!" And now she sounded genuinely happy rather than alarmed or plagued by most important, capital news of extreme importance - "Samira," she said before taking another breath, and sounding sensuous almost, "Samira you have to come. You have to see this! You'll feel it I promise." Then her voice sounded more distant. "This is incredible." And then a dial tone.

.

This wasn't a good idea. Not a good idea. Not a good idea.

Walking alone in the night Samira had let her thoughts wander around and was toying with some kind of theory as to what was going on there and why she was so badly needed - probably they were just having normal fun and having drugs and Jimena had indulged more than she should. Samira would show up and play cards or a drinking game or something and it would all be in good humour and maybe Matt had a bunch of friends over at his place, too, and it would be sort of neutral territory for her and Jimena ot make up sort of and friendship or something similar and all would be well. And Samira wouldn't have to worry about letting people disappear and life being short and the lives of people around you to be as short as yours and maybe there was something good to be had out of her bizarre encounter with Jimena.

There were no friends at Matt's house, and the lights were mostly out. The smell of sex filled the air - maybe it rose with the damp heaviness of the air after the rain.

"Come on in," came Matt's voice from the dark. Samira invited herself in and took off her shoes. She headed for his bedroom - it was dimly lit in candlelight, and definitely smelled of sex. What in the -

"Come sit with us," Jimena enjoined. Her voice was indeed sounded slurry and smooth like she was under the influence of something not exactly holy. Jimena walked closer to the bed where both her 'friend' and colleague were sitting, and amidst the tangled heaps of sheets she realized that they were both stark naked.

"Guys..."

"It's not what you think," Matt assured.

"No I think it _is_ what I think it is, and I don't care that you're swinging both ways, Matt," she said in one breath.

"No Samira just _listen_-"

Samira jerked her head, slightly jarred by Jimena's casual appropriation of her name. She was holding Matt's hand like they were... lovers? Lovey-dovey? United? Whatever.

"I'm not doing this threesome thing. Just _no_."

"No this isn't it." Jimena reached out and grabbed her hand before she could withdraw it and then

something

in her back

something sprouting in her back

jimena calling out to her but the words meshed with the hollow sound of the wind rustling against her ears

she felt blind but she _saw_ the sun and she _saw_ the sky and she was _flying_

.

.

.

.


End file.
